Redefining Friendship
by Grapesy
Summary: After the Whomping Willow incident in Sixth year, a bit of a rift created between Sirius and the other Marauders, especially with his best mate among best mates- James. Too bad they still have Quidditch practice together.


His left shoulder was aching. Not the superficial kind of ache that came from accidentally knocking himself in the face while fumbling to put on his glasses in the morning. Nor the hot, sharp pain that came alongside anguished laughter when one whacked their elbow against a door frame in passing. No, this was a throbbing - not to mention annoying - pain that resided deep within your muscles, making them involuntarily spasm and you wonder if you weren't more injured than was apparent. The kind of pain that came from someone purposely knocking a bludger your way from not even four feet away- with no quaffle in sight, surely using all of the strength they could muster, just like the berk Beater they were.

Practice had only been going on for twenty minutes when it happened, and though he had suffered much worse injuries throughout his Quidditch "career", it was enough to send his bad mood into overdrive. It wasn't odd for him to be found in a horrible, over-all broody mood lately. The play had been halted long enough not to bench the offending player, but instead completely change gears and dive into an extremely complicated one that relied much more on said twat, sorry, Beater's abilities. There may have also been a slight chance higher that said person could get injured. Calling upon his best reserve Chaser, James had resigned himself to watching his team go through this, though still seated on his broom off to the side of the pitch, still within its boundaries, though not directly in any sort of possible line of fire.

That crease in his brow wouldn't fade away, and it was through narrowed eyes that he watched a glint of gold fluttering in the late afternoon sun, scarlet robes zipping around and their reserve Seeker tossing around a spare quaffle near the far end of the pitch. Usually this would have caused him to bark out an order to do something more productive that cock about - a near tyrannical demeanor at practice coming about as the year progressed and Slytherin crept closer to winning the Inter-House Championship - but today he was much more focused on watching that admittedly skilled Beater like a hawk, waiting, just waiting for some reason to harp on him. True, this was not productive to the overall best interests of the team, but today James wasn't really in the mood to look out for everyones best interests.

Hunching forward some, he released his grip on his broomhandle with his left hand, flexing and then opening his hand to shake off the tingling in the tips of his fingers. Momentarily distracted by the stiffness in them it didn't stop him from yelling into the pitch loudly, "Pick it up! And how about we make that formation resemble something other than a bloody mess! You could fit three of that porky Ravenclaw Chaser through there! You know what, just try it again!"

The sounds of displeased Gryffindors were hard to miss, but all it did was cause James to look up just in time to see the combination of a furrowed brow and slit eyes mirroring his own directed at him as Sirius easily deflected a bludger that had been coming towards him. "Why don't you get down here and show us how it's done, Cap'n!" The words were shouted back at him with a nice petulant tone, though that distinct note of betrayal that had been in the few words the two had exchanged lately ringing out loud and clear.

James' frown deepened and he let out a sigh that no one would have heard, resigning himself to not let any emotion show in his reply. "We've been going over this play for a month, Black, you should all know how to do this in your sleep! I said run it again!" It didn't work very well. Or at all.

By the time practice was over, his sour mood still refused to dissipate. The rest of the team had started to wander off, and James didn't even realise who exactly was left at first, choosing instead to try and figure out when would be the best time to schedule another practise before the upcoming game against Hufflepuff. Not that he saw the badgers as that big of a threat, it was never a good idea to be unprepared. Which was exactly how he found himself as he was walking back to the castle, looking up to see Sirius close by, nearly walking in step with him. It became horribly obvious that neither were trying to pay the other any attention, but the silence spoke a lot more than the tense words exchanged between them these days. There was a sudden pang in James's shoulder, and he clenched his jaw as he willed himself not to say anything. It wasn't worth the breath. He wasn't worth the breath. And yet he found that himself spitting out those words, "Pull shite like that again and you'll be off the field for the next game, I don't even care if it's against Slytherin."

The infinitesimally shorter boy stopped in his tracks, and intuitively James did also. Power struggles weren't something that the Marauders had ever had amongst themselves, but it appeared those newly found animal instincts had stuck with them far more than they took notice of.

There was a derisive scoff and a quirk of a brow that he knew too well, having mastered the same thing himself. "Have you considered not acting like a girl on the pitch?" Sirius was capable of much more scathing comments, James knew that. Sirius knew that James knew that.

His fist tightened by his side, and he feared his jaw might crack from the tension being held in it. "Think I'm joking, then try me. Please test me just so I can see you sulking on the sidelines, Black." He'd do it, too. His pride would see to that.

"Potter, you should watch out for that ego, it'd be really sad to see it destroyed." Hazel eyes narrowed to slits and he took a half-step closer to what he had considered his closest friend ever until recently.

"And I could say the same to you." The two boys just stood there in their Quidditch robes, daring the other to do or say something that would turn this into another epic shouting match that might have been their only form of communication these days. James hated this. That the past almost six years had been seemingly erased by that single night. By what some would call a prank, and others the dumbest thing a human mind could ever conceive.

"Sod. Off." Sirius' voice was equally acidic.

Shaking his head softly, he let out a breath that he didn't even realise he'd been holding in. "Right. Yeah. That actually sounds like the best idea I've heard today." He sounded defeated, but it wasn't that Sirius had won either. "I should probably be studying instead of wasting my time like this." The words 'with Remus' had almost slipped out during the middle of that sentence, and as much as some spiteful part of his brain had wanted him to say it, he couldn't stoop that low. James Potter could be accused of being a downright jerk at times, but he still couldn't rub that in the older boy's face. Even if he possibly did deserve it.

What had been a palpable hostility melted away into some sad reminder of the rift that had been growing between them as both broke eye contact, though didn't move yet. James opened his mouth to speak, but ended up quickly closing it and turned away as he started towards the castle again. Once there was a reasonable amount of space between them, he brought a hand up to knead his shoulder and croaked, "Practice. Thursday. Don't forget." 


End file.
